


Alive

by nat_scribbles



Series: Tumblr Requests [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, a bit of angst, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat_scribbles/pseuds/nat_scribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Post Reinbach Fall John hears questionable noises and for the sake of an old friend goes to investigate. What does he find? Sherlock tied to a chair. Take any and all liberties with this ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherlockianfromgallifrey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sherlockianfromgallifrey).



> As always, the characters aren't mine, I'm just having fun with them, and English isn't my first language, please excuse the mistakes.

“Will you be staying for dinner, dear?”

John presses his lips together as he looks down at his tea, looking for the answer. “No, I… I can’t. Sorry.” he flashes her an apologetic smile, but doesn’t look up from the steaming liquid. It’s only natural she asked, it’s his third cup anyway.

“Right. Of course…” she puts another plate with homemade biscuits on the table and sits down. “John, I need to know, will you… will you ever move back in?”

John moves his head to the side slightly, as if he were thinking about it. He knows the answer already, but it’s difficult to say it. Ella would have a field day. “Yes, just… not yet.”

Mrs. Hudson smiles and pats his hand. “Of course, dear. You take your time.”

John’s lips press into a thin line and curve into a tight smile. He takes another biscuit to go with his tea. It’s always difficult to come see her, but it’s even harder leaving.

There is a thud upstairs and John freezes. Another one follows. And another. And another. The doctor’s hand moves towards the Browning he doesn’t carry around anymore at the back of his jeans and he mutters a curse. Mrs. Hudson, pale as a sheet of paper, looks up at him and he takes a finger to his lips, standing up slowly and walking over to the door.

He climbs up the seventeen stairs slowly, skipping the ones he knows creak, and waits by the door. There is another thud, this one significantly louder, and a groan. John pushes the door open slowly.

He feels his blood freeze and the room spin around him.

Sherlock is there, right in the middle of the living room, gaged and tied to a chair.

“You… You’re dead…” John whispers, leaning against the wall. It feels wonderfully solid and cold, wonderfully real.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and John can almost hear the  _obviously not, do keep up, John_.

He takes a step forward towards him and it’s then that he notices the blond man on the floor in front of the detective. “Wha… Who… How…?”

Sherlock makes a muffled noise around the gag and moves in his chair, making it rattle with a series of short noises. Oh, so  _that_  was the thudding…

“Right, right.” John undoes the gag, moving almost automatically because if he stops and thinks for a second, then he doesn’t know what he’ll do because Sherlock was dead,  _dead_ , he saw him fall, took his pulse and there wasn’t a pulse and now he’s in his living room,  _their_  living room and…

“John.”

The doctor looks at him, helpless.

“I need you to listen to me. Tie him up. He’s dangerous. I’ll explain later.”

John does as he says, because it’s easier following his orders than thinking. He can’t think or he’l go crazy. That is, if he isn’t already crazy. Completely bonkers, he’s seeing his dead flatmate after all.

“Alright, now untie me.”

And John does. He sets him free of the ropes and allows himself to touch the man’s right wrist, the same he touched  _that day_ , and finds pulse there. Steady, if a bit quick. “You’re alive.”

“Brilliant deduction, John.”

And then it hits him. The past three months, the loneliness, the sadness, the anger. Oh the anger, it gets to him. “You bastard.”

John’s hand doesn’t tremble when he punches him or when he pulls him by the lapels of his shirt and kisses him hard.

He’s alive. They both are.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sherlockianfromgallifrey on tumblr for sending me the prompt!
> 
> I hope you like it and that it is somewhat what you were looking for.
> 
> My porny muse didn’t want to come out to play, sorry.


End file.
